


The Thin Silver Thread

by The_Artist_Formerly_Known_As_SatCat



Series: Reylo Week 2018 [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abduction, Alcohol, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergent, Day 4, F/M, Mythology - Freeform, Prompt Fic, Reylo Week 2018, Suicidal Ideation, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, folklore AU, proxy marriage, psychic violation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2020-04-24 18:13:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19178716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Artist_Formerly_Known_As_SatCat/pseuds/The_Artist_Formerly_Known_As_SatCat
Summary: The doors opened, and before her on a dais sat a pale skeleton of a man, his hungry visage twisted in an expression of terrible delight that made Rey shudder. The masked one knelt beside her, but Rey stubbornly stood, refusing to do her captor or its master the honor."Well done, my good and faithful apprentice!" Snoke purred. "You shall be rewarded." He crooked a finger at Rey. "Come closer, my dear!"Rey felt herself levitated, and floated, stiff as a corpse, toward the throne of ash- and bone-colored stone."Do you know why you are here, my dear?" the deformed old man, dressed in robes of gold like some fairy-tale evil sorcerer, asked Rey. She did not."Take her away to be prepared, my apprentice. Guard and train your future Empress as her powers and station deserve.""Empress?!" Rey squeaked. This wasn't right. She was Rey, a nobody from nowhere. She didn't have powers, she had no idea how to be anEmpress,and--OH. MAKER.If she's theEmpress...her stomach turned, and her skin paled under a sheen of sweat. Her indescribable revulsion at everything her 'new station' implied overwhelmed her, and she collapsed, suspended in the air.





	1. The Abduction

**Author's Note:**

> ***This is a reposting of a deleted fic.***
> 
> Hey what's up some people have tracked me down to ask about some fics I wrote that they missed when I killed my account. By request, I am reposting some of them. I'm not likely to check comments or anything else on them, since I don't really participate in the fandom much anymore.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy these in good health, and be kind to each other in the comments ok?!
> 
> ~(TAFKA)SC

Rey looked around her, but her reflection in the durasteel floors and walls offered her no secrets, no ideas for escape, and no comfort. The huge and terrifying masked creature beside her, who shrouded itself in darkness and terror, held her elbow and pulled her toward a pair of oversized doors, leading to a great hall. The doors opened, and before her on a dais sat a pale skeleton of a man, his hungry visage twisted in an expression of terrible delight that made Rey shudder. The masked one knelt beside her, but Rey stubbornly stood, refusing to do her captor or its master the honor.

“Well done, my good and faithful apprentice!” Snoke purred. “You shall be rewarded.” He crooked a finger at Rey. “Come closer, my dear!”

Rey felt herself levitated, and floated, stiff as a corpse, toward the throne of ash- and bone-colored stone.

“Do you know why you are here, my dear?” the deformed old man, dressed in robes of gold like some fairy-tale evil sorcerer, asked Rey. She did not.

“Mmm,” he paused, drawing out the suspense. “Do you know who you are?”

“I am Rey of Jakku.”

“Jakku?!” His laughter thundered, ominous. “How came such a treasure to be buried in the desert wastes, my apprentice?”

“She does not…remember, though I sense that she knows. She was abandoned nearly 15 years ago and enslaved by a junkboss, Unkar Plutt.” The masked creature replied, never lifting its gaze.

“I was no slave!” Rey’s eyes flashed. Slaves wore chains. Slaves wore sheer clothing. Slaves were used by the wealthy merchants who travelled through Jakku. She shuddered at the memory of the kind woman, Nateela, whose body she had stolen away to bury in the sands of Jakku after she had been killed by a “client” who had turned violent. Nateela had been kind, though her slavery hollowed her heart and soul until her death had been all but a blessing. Rey had refused to allow her remains to be chucked out like so much garbage for the scavengers.

Rey flinched and cried out as something bored into her brain, pulling forth memory after memory. Nateela’s body. Avoiding the outpost after midday whenever possible. Fighting off the hands of men who hadn’t appreciated the word ‘NO’. The first time she’d killed another person. _(He had been someone who had followed her back to_ Hellhound II, _thinking he would ambush her, claim her, and then claim her home. Granted, he’d died after stepping on one of her trap mines, but her death was on her conscience.)_ Her fingers reaching, seeking on a rare few nights to quell the burning between her thighs. Loneliness. No parents. Where are my parents?

“STOP!” Rey screamed, her face aflame with mortification. Clearly, there was more than one kind of violation, and in that moment, Rey wasn’t certain that the physical was worse than the psychic.

Snoke sat back, satisfied with what he’d seen, but did not withdraw from her mind. “She is intact, then.” Rey’s humiliation was complete, and only then, once her reaction had affirmed to the enthroned monster that she was virginal, did he withdraw. She felt a heat behind her eyes and clenched her fists, praying to the Maker or Ri’ia or anyone who might be listening that she would not shed tears until she was alone.

“Take her away to be prepared, my apprentice. Guard and train your future Empress as her powers and station deserve.”

“Empress?!” Rey squeaked. This wasn’t right. She was Rey, a nobody from nowhere. She didn’t have powers, she had no idea how to be an _Empress,_ and– **OH. MAKER.** If she’s the **Empress** …  
  
Her stomach turned, and her skin paled under a sheen of sweat. Her indescribable revulsion at everything her ‘new station’ implied overwhelmed her, and she collapsed, suspended in the air.

* * *

Rey awakened with a start, and found herself lying in her clothes, minus boots, on a bed of black satin, tucked up to her chin. She shot upright, only to gasp at finding the masked creature crouched at the foot of the bed, its visor turned toward her.

“What happened?” Her voice quavered, and she hated it.

“The Supreme Leader ordered that you be made comfortable until you awoke, Lady Rey.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“That is your proper title.”

“No, it isn’t! This is all a wild mistake. I’m nobody!”

“You’ll find it isn’t wise to imply the Supreme Leader is mistaken.”

“I don’t CARE!! This is madness, can’t you see that?!”

“The Supreme Leader is wise. His understanding is beyond my comprehension, and certainly beyond yours as it stands, Lady.”

The absolute insanity and hopelessness of her situation crushed her, and she couldn’t help her captor’s being there; she wept bitter tears, her slender shoulders wracked with sobs. Rather than watch her, her would-be guardian stood and turned away, walking through another door, and the sounds of running water turned Rey’s head, stopping her tears with a sniffle. She walked toward the sound, almost afraid of what she would find, but too entranced by the sound of the water to leave it be. She found the masked figure on one knee in front of a large tub that was filling with water. Steam was beginning to obscure the mirror, and on noticing her, her guardian rose.

“You should bathe, Lady Rey.”

“Are you saying I smell?” she retorted before she could stop herself.

A pause. “You’ll be relieved to hear I have no idea.”

Had that been an attempt at humor? She fidgeted, unsure of what to say, so it continued.

“Dinner will be served at 1900, which is only a few hours away, and it is a formal occasion. You don’t have much time to prepare, My Lady.”

“You brought me here; you know I have nothing.”

“A clothier will be here in half an hour, and a personal assistant after that.”

She fell silent, for a moment, then asked, “Where will you be?”

The visor tilted, as if in puzzlement.

“Where I am required. Do you believe you will have need of me, Lady Rey?”

“I…no. I suppose I won’t.” She reminded herself that any familiarity she felt with her guardian was simply the result of its being the least new of an onslaught of new and generally unpleasant people and events.

It bowed, sharply and not one inch further than decorum commanded. “My Lady.”

The doors opened and closed, and she was alone. She was alone in a strange place, an unwilling pawn in a game she couldn’t understand. Perhaps the water would clear her head; if nothing else, it was a luxury the likes of which she had never dreamed on Jakku, and if it was done at the expense of that horrible monster who was responsible for her abduction and imprisonment, so much the better. She undressed and slipped into the tub.

The chime on her door rang sooner than Rey would have liked; she was mildly distressed at how pleasant she had found the bath–but only mildly so. She rose and wrapped herself in a robe that hung near the door to the ensuite, and went to answer the door.

The clothier was a shorter man with light hair and merry blue eyes, and his appearance was unsurprisingly neat and tailored, though not without personality. He had a yellow tape about his neck and wore an expression that suggested he was forever on the tip of telling a dirty joke.

“My name is Carson, Lady Rey,” he bowed. “We must take your measurements. Leave your underthings on, and remove your robe.”

She blushed, not for shame of her nakedness, but for shame of her want. “I…don’t have any.”

The man blinked, twice, his mouth a grim line, but then the face had disappeared and his smile grew even wider at the absurdity of the situation. Rey gave him a shy smile back, and dropped her eyes. She might get through this fitting, if he was so determined to be cheerful.

Half an hour later, he exchanged places with a droid. The sleek, black humanoid carried a sleek, black case and a package wrapped in black silk. The package contained various underthings made in materials so finely woven that the calluses of Rey’s fingers threatened to snag in them.

“I am TJ-89, Lady Rey,” said a female voice in charmingly accented Basic. “I am here to see that you are appropriately styled for your audience with the Supreme Leader.”

When Carson finally returned, TJ had finished putting her hair in what the droid had insisted was a simple hairstyle for females of her age and applying so many cosmetics to her face that Rey felt like a total stranger was looking back at her in the mirror. Rey was surprised to find that it was 1830, and she sighed when she saw that all of her choices were gowns–not a pair of pants in sight. She chose a deep navy blue gown with a high, demi-collar neck and a front with a narrow opening that plunged nearly to her navel, but it was full-skirted, kept everything else, including her arms, covered, and best of all, it had POCKETS. Silver embroidery ran along the sides of the collar and the front opening and the edges of the sleeves, making it look like it was flecked with stardust. For the shoes, Carson had brought a single pair of sensible boots, in a matching shade. She silently thanked Ri’ia that the clothier hadn’t even tried to force her into a ridiculous pair of heels.

Carson reached over and adjusted Rey’s hair and dress just so, and bowed.

“You look lovely, Lady Rey.”

“Thank you Carson, TJ. Good evening.”

As the droid and clothier headed for the door, it opened to reveal her captor, who dipped its head in acknowledgement, then offered an arm.

“You look well. Are you ready?”

Rey looked around, confused at the lack of binders, but she wasn’t about to complain.

“I suppose I must be.”

When she took its arm, she found herself marvelling at the strength beneath the tunic, and grateful for the restraint that her captor must have shown during her abduction. Clearly, she could have been treated far worse than she had been. Perhaps that meant that it did not wish her harm? She decided to experiment.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes?”

“I do not know your name. How shall I call you?”

“Ren.”

“Oh.” She paused. “Ren?”

“Yes?”

“I was hoping you might help me. I…I don’t…I’ve never been anywhere, or done anything, remotely like this before.”

“I can hardly imagine you would, on Jakku.”

“Yes,” she huffed, miffed that her childhood was being judged and insulted yet again, “well. You can see how I might be at a disadvantage.” Rey was working very hard not to snap at the tall, black-clad figure, but she felt like a ewe in a den of wolves.

Ren slowed a moment, and turned toward her, giving her a shameless once-over; then Ren actually stopped for just an instant, and looked lost in thought.

“You’re naturally quick. Slow down, observe, and do not share or speak unless directed.”

Before she could ask what Ren meant by that, they were back before the double doors that lead to the audience chamber, and they found Snoke sitting on his throne, wearing the same golden robes as before. Ren genuflected to the Supreme Leader, remaining on one knee. Rey stood, but bowed her head, not meeting Snoke’s gaze.

“Lady Rey, welcome. Approach.”

Rey lifted her head and tilted her chin, not openly defiant, but refusing to appear cowed, and she walked slowly toward the throne. She stopped a few feet before it, clasped her hands before her, and waited. Snoke’s gaze was cool, appraising her change in appearance and attitude.

“I have a gift for my future Empress, but first, a question: Has Kylo Ren been a proper and diligent guardian?”

Remembering Ren’s words outside the room, she took a breath before responding, and got the distinct feeling that something very dire was at stake in her answer.

“I believe so, Supreme Leader.”

An unpleasant caress pushed against her thoughts, and she flinched. She feared the pain and humiliation that came before, but Snoke was clearly displeased by her resistance. Lowering her eyes, Rey called to mind her interactions with Ren, highlighting in her memories where Ren had immobilized her rather than subduing her with violence; where she had woken in privacy in the quarters on _The Silencer_ ; where she had been allowed food and drink whenever she was hungry; how she had awoken on _The Supremacy_ in modesty and comfort, to Ren as a silent observer who had, at least, left as much of her dignity intact as was possible.

“I am unused to the sensation of someone else seeing my thoughts, Supreme Leader. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

“You will grow accustomed to it in time,” Snoke purred, and the sound of it made Rey’s stomach curdle and toes splay in disgust. “Now: is there anything you would ask of me?”

Rey was shocked by the question, and took another deep breath to think. The only things she wanted in that moment (her freedom, her parents), he would be unwilling or unable to grant; asking for something frivolous might be equally dangerous.

“No, Supreme Leader, I would ask for nothing.”

“Absolutely correct, my dear. Never ask for anything from anyone, especially from those more powerful than yourself. Now, I offer you the gift of company: shall Kylo Ren join us this evening?”

“If it pleases you, Supreme Leader, yes.”

A smile spread across Snoke’s visage, splitting his face like the skin of an overripe shuura fruit.

“Kylo Ren, you will return dressed for dinner.”

“Yes, Master.”

Now, she was alone with Snoke, and she almost wanted to take back her praise of Ren’s guardianship; never had she felt so alone and vulnerable.


	2. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is no one who would rescue me, Supreme Leader. Plutt would never waste the time or resources, and no one else remembers my name by now. You could simply imprison me for life, and there would be nothing I could do." Bitterness and lost hope licked like fel fire in her voice.
> 
> "Ah, that is only true while you stand here, ignorant of your true nature and abilities." Her curiosity was piqued by the promise in his words, and she looked at him, eyes wide and greedy for any knowledge that would make her less helpless.
> 
> "Life has dealt you nothing but pain, child...and pain is a powerful weapon. Kylo Ren will teach you well, and you will become an instrument of vengeance against all who have harmed you."
> 
> Something inside Rey strained toward the power in his words; power to ensure that she would never be hungry, or treated like cast-off junk, ever again. Some greater part of her, though, recoiled from the darkness inherent in his promise. Being the boot, rather than the downtrodden, may have appealed to her baser instincts, but her sense of justice and rightness did not swerve. She knew she could never be that kind of monster.
> 
>   
> 

“You have accepted your role with very little fuss, Lady Rey.” Snoke’s voice hovered somewhere between pleasure and mockery.

“I cannot see that I have much choice in the matter, Supreme Leader. Can you, in your wisdom, see any advantage to my being distressed over the matter?”

Snoke chuckled, seeming to find her archness amusing. “If I did, girl, it would hardly suit my purposes to reveal it to you.”

Rey gave a half-smile. “Well, then.”

“As you have no family to involve,” the Supreme Leader’s visage took on a rictus-like grin once more, “the timetable for our impending marriage can be moved forward.”

Rey blanched, but said nothing, willing her mind to blankness.

“It will take place the day after tomorrow, on the planet Naboo.”

“So soon?” Rey couldn’t hide the panic that crept into her voice.

Snoke laughed, a cold, mocking thing. “Surely you don’t believe I would allow ample time for a rescue?”

Rey’s head bowed, the weight of her loneliness crushing, and the years she spent waiting for no one and nothing coming back to twist a knife in her heart once more.

“There is no one who would rescue me, Supreme Leader. Plutt would never waste the time or resources, and no one else remembers my name by now. You could simply imprison me for life, and there would be nothing I could do.” Bitterness and lost hope licked like fel fire in her voice.

“Ah, that is only true while you stand here, ignorant of your true nature and abilities.” Her curiosity was piqued by the promise in his words, and she looked at him, eyes wide and greedy for any knowledge that would make her less helpless.

“Life has dealt you nothing but pain, child…and pain is a powerful weapon. Kylo Ren will teach you well, and you will become an instrument of vengeance against all who have harmed you.”

Something inside Rey strained toward the power in his words; power to ensure that she would never be hungry, or treated like cast-off junk, ever again. Some greater part of her, though, recoiled from the darkness inherent in his promise. Being the boot, rather than the downtrodden, may have appealed to her baser instincts, but her sense of justice and rightness did not swerve. She knew she could never be that kind of monster.

Snoke saw the grim resolve etched on her face, and was pleased. “Indeed, Desert Flower, you have been made to endure all things, and your destiny has molded you into an ideal progenitrix.”

Rey had no idea what his words meant, but was determined not to show her ignorance, choosing instead to remain silent. It was then that the doors opened, and Rey’s heart stopped. A dark-haired man stepped through the door, dressed in a formal tunic of deepest night scattered with silver stars, and knelt before the throne. He was absurdly tall and broad, and strikingly handsome…but unless the Supreme Leader kept two great black-clad behemoths at his beck and call, this could be none other than–

“Kylo Ren, rise and be seated!”

Well. “It” was definitely a “HE”. Rey, her heart pounding and her feelings all confusion, kept her eyes lowered and focused on her clasped hands. Her confusion grew when her guardian went to stand behind a chair, but did not sit. Her eyes flitted between Ren and Snoke, anxious that he was not exactly obeying his master’s command.

“Be seated, I said,” Snoke intoned calmly as the chair slid out from the table. Kylo grimaced, his muscles straining as if resisting the commands of gravity itself.

“Lady Rey…has not been…seated yet…” Ren ground out, sighing as his master released the Force grip that had been forcing him downward.

Snoke smiled, as if Ren had passed a difficult trial. “Ever the Prince, I see.”

“I would never be so foolish as to insult the lady who will be your Empress, Supreme Leader.”

“Be seated, Lady Rey.” Snoke exerted himself marginally to be socially graceful, and Rey did everything in her power to placate him. Walking over to the chair that had been pushed out for Ren, she sat and allowed him to push her chair up to the table. He then walked to be seated across from her.

 _Wait…why are there only two place settings??_ Her mind was screaming at her in alarm. Rey looked at Snoke, and wanted to ask him why he was not seated at the table, but before she could draw breath, she felt a nudge against her foot. Looking up, she saw _his_ eyes boring into hers, a reminder to stay silent. She gave an almost imperceptible nod, and settled into her seat. Rey could not stop herself from gawking, however, at the goblet of water before each place setting, or at the crystalline pitcher filled with even more water.

“Is something out of place, Lady Rey?” Kylo asked, tilting his head slightly. The head tilt reminded her of his similar body language behind the visor, and she reeled in her jaw, her expression morphing into a smirk.

“On Jakku, water was never served this freely. It surprises me that the rest of the galaxy does not consider water to be a rare and precious resource.” On Jakku, offering someone a sip from your canteen was tantamount to a declaration of love, because you were giving them your most precious resource and trusting that they would not leave you to die of thirst. Refusing such an offer was all but a mortal insult.

The first course was served, a soup. She watched Ren, and imitated him as best she could, although proper table manners completely escaped her.

_Like him. I need to do this like he does. How does he do it? Watch carefully._

She followed his movements, though her hand shook a little. She wasn’t used to using utensils, nor to the restraint which they naturally required. She managed not to spill anything on herself outright, but her hunger and customary eating habits were making this far more difficult than she wanted to admit. She ultimately gave up, which pained her, but this was the Supreme Leader’s table, and anything she might have wasted was from his coffer, so she tried not to feel too badly about it.

The next dish was unlike anything she had ever seen, and if she had felt outmatched by the soup, she knew not where to begin with the dish in front of her. It was a filet of something white and delicate-looking, resting beside brown, purple, and orange globes, and a pile of what looked somewhat like polystarch?

Rey panicked. She couldn’t help it. She had already cried once tonight, and was determined not to do it again.

Across the table from her, Kylo blanched.

“Is something amiss, my apprentice?”

“A momentary disturbance in the Force.” He surreptitiously eyed Rey. “It appears to have passed now.”

Images appeared in Rey’s mind: cutting the filet, quartering the globes, spearing each piece with the multi-tipped utensil. Trying the filet with each color of globe, with the polystarch-looking food for variety between bites. The hands holding the utensils were large and masculine–Ren’s hands. She followed the instructions as she had seen them, although she felt downright clumsy compared to him. She sent him silent gratitude, daring to meet his eyes over the table. In fact, she had almost managed to put Snoke out of her mind–a truth that she only realized when she was startled by the sound of his chuckle.

“Good! Good, I am pleased to see the two of you so well matched!”

Ren stiffened at Snoke’s words, and Rey was quick to take a drink of water, embarrassed at having been observed and dreading what Snoke might say or do.

“Yes, it is all proceeding as I have foreseen! Ren will make a perfect proxy!”

The sound of silverware clattering to the table was deafening. “Supreme Leader?!”

“Don’t act so surprised, Kylo Ren. I’ve seen into your mind, and I can tell that you have feelings for Lady Rey–even compassion.” Snoke’s tone left no doubt as to his thoughts on _compassion_.

Now _Rey_ was rocked by _Ren’s_ panic. She frowned, but really, none of it should have been surprising. She couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to marry her either.


	3. Freedom and Bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's learning curve remains steep, but she finds unexpected allies...and confronts an enemy.

Rejection. Panic. Desire? Fear. Loneliness. Shock.  
  
Feelings swirled, collided, ricocheted, and spun wildly. Rey was in the midst of a maelstrom, her feelings running riot. She understood precious few things: she was here to be married to Supreme Leader Snoke. She did not get a say in the matter. Snoke intended to use Kylo Ren as a proxy to complete the marriage. She did not quite understand the particulars of what that meant, but at this point, she was not about to ask. She still had some pride, after all, and _that_ had just been entirely mortified, because Kylo Ren was absolutely, vigorously opposed to being said proxy.  
  
_I may not be some princess,_ she thought, _but I have every reason to have pride. I survived, when others wrote me off as weak and frail. I built a life for myself in the wastes, and did it without selling my body or my soul. I never needed anyone’s approval or good opinion before, and I still don’t now!_  
  
Why, then, did Ren’s panic and dread sting so badly? Why did his rejection matter at all? Yes, he was handsome and young—or at least, younger and (far, _far_ ) handsomer than Snoke. But Rey had never intended nor wanted to get married in the first place, and, she hastened to remind herself, this admittedly-gorgeous man had come to her home world and swept off with her, as if it were some godsdamned _honor,_ as if he’d the right! He had no problem snatching her off of Jakku and ruining her life—  
  
_It may not have been much in anyone else’s eyes, but it was MINE!_  
  
—in order to facilitate her marriage to the Supreme Leader, but now that he might have to suffer a personal inconvenience, it was _all too much?!_ This could not, would not be borne! Rey suddenly lurched to her feet, her chair scraping the floor behind her before clattering over.  
  
“Supreme Leader.” Rey’s voice quavered, and she took a breath, suffocating her hurt, stealing the oxygen from it with the fires of her outrage. “Excuse me, I am feeling ill.”  
  
“Do you require Lord Ren to escort you?” Snoke smiled, a desiccated, rotten thing, and Rey felt black, searing hate roll through her body, electrifying her limbs, clogging her throat, deafening her ears. The feeling was so overwhelming, the loss of control so complete, Rey felt as if she stood outside her body, looking down at the scene from above. Her hands closed into fists and opened again and again, their shaking attenuated by the movement; her shoulders heaved as she fought to draw breath in and out; then, as if stiffened by an invisible rod of durasteel, she saw her shoulders thrown back, her head taking on an aristocratic tilt. The change was shocking, to say the least.  
  
_Can this be me? Who is this woman, with her queenly airs?_  
  
She listened in amazement as her voice, level, sharp, and icy, cut out the words, “I require **no one.** His presence or absence is of no consequence to me.” She bowed her head to the Supreme Leader, spun on her heel, and stalked out of the room.  
  
“Well, Lord Ren,” she heard Snoke snicker behind her retreating back, his dry amusement somehow the worst of the insults she’d been grieved with this evening, “it seems you are foolish enough to insult my future Empress after all.”  
  
Any reply that Kylo Ren could make was blessedly cut off behind the throne room’s massive doors.

* * *

 

As Rey stormed down the hallway of the Supremacy, looking for her quarters, the heat of her rage continued to bubble and seethe, and although she ultimately wanted to return to her rooms, she was heedless, careless of direction, and having travelled to the throne room twice on the arm of Ren had not afforded her the opportunity to properly orient herself to the ship. The realization that she had no idea where she was and didn’t know which of the identical rooms were hers made her want to scream, vomit, and combust, possibly all at the same time. She was beginning to entertain the idea of hiking toward the nearest airlock and hurling herself out, just to spite everyone involved, or better still, rigging the seal open and spacing the _entire godsdamned ship_ when her name interrupted her suicidal-cum-murderous train of thought.  
  
“Lady Rey?!”  
  
Carson was just outside a room, juggling an armful of boxes, when he’d called her name. She had never been so glad to see a friendly face in her entire life.  
  
“Carson!”  
  
“What happened at dinner, my Lady? Are you well?”  
  
_How did he know something had happened?_ Rey was paralyzed by a sudden fear that the dinner had not been private. The Maker alone knew what passed for entertainment for a being like Snoke. Perhaps having his throne room broadcast to the ship was a diversion for him. She decided to play it cool.  
  
“What makes you think anything happened at dinner?” She picked at a fingernail, feigning disinterest.  
  
“You’ve only been gone an hour, My Lady,” Carson said, slowly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his customary grin plastered on his face. “Dinners like that frequently go on for two to three hours.”  
  
The look in her eyes and hitch in her breath gave her away more surely than anything else could.  
  
“Far be it from me to invite you into your own rooms, my Lady, but please come in and sit. You look positively dead on your feet!”  
  
As she staggered into her rooms, Carson fiddled with a device on his wrist, then turned to her.  
  
“Let me get you ready for bed, my Lady.”  
  
Rey blushed, but it was nothing he had not already seen, so why was she so nervous?  
  
_Because my mind may, at any moment, be invaded. Because I do not understand the Supreme Leader well enough to know what he might do._  
  
An entirely reasonable fear, in Rey’s opinion.  
  
A camisole, sleeping shorts, and a robe of luxurious pale grey satin and black lace, modest in length but comfortable, made Rey feel easier. When the doorbell chimed, Rey was confused, but Carson got up to let in a young woman near Rey’s age who came bearing a covered trolley. Her name, Rey learned, was Phaedra, and she was a young human woman whose job was pampering others, mostly women. She produced what looked like a washbasin and a cylinder filled with assorted metallic implements.  
  
“Please make yourself comfortable, my Lady,” she said, rising with the washbasin and retreating to the en suite.  
  
“Carson?” Rey whispered. “What is she going to do?”  
  
“Officially?” he offered her a sly smile. “She’s going to give you a manicure and a pedicure.”  
  
Rey had absolutely no idea what any of that meant.  
  
“Just between friends? You look like you need someone to talk to. And maybe a drink,” he continued, grinning like a cat.  
  
The experience of the manicure and pedicure were new, but by no means unpleasant; Carson stuck around, even though his work for the day was done. He sensed that Rey needed a familiar face, and so he did his best to take care of her, offering her sparkling wine (and smiling to himself as she experienced it for the first time, complete with her yelp at the bubbles going up her nose—it was just as well, he reasoned, because she would certainly have to drink it on her wedding day, and it wouldn’t do for the girl to be made foolish), and tossing out occasional _bon mots_ that made the ladies smile. As Rey’s nails were buffed and painted with a rosy pink, she began to relax, the horrors and humiliation of the dinner turning to humor.  
  
“…so then,” a cheerful Rey related, “Lord High-and-Mighty leaves to get dressed for dinner, and the Supreme Leader tells me the wedding is set for the day after tomorrow! On Naboo!”  
  
Carson paled and dropped his champagne flute, the tinkling crash upsetting the fragile cheer that had been buoying Rey’s spirits. “The day after tomorrow?!”  
  
He leapt to his feet, and bowed. “Forgive me, Lady Rey, I must go make sure that everything is ready.”  
  
“Oh Carson, I’m sorry!” Tears stood in Rey’s eyes. “I’ve ruined the evening!”  
  
A conspiratorial smile graced his lips. “Not at all; you’ve given me a leg up on the situation! I’d be willing to wager a week’s pay that no one has thought to tell me yet, officially, that I have 12 hours to make sure your trousseau is ready for launch!”  
  
_How unforgivably rude!_ Rey fumed. _These are paid staff, not slaves!_

Something of her train of thought must have shown on her face, because Carson and Phaedra exchanged arched eyebrows. Phaedra bowed as well, and they took their leave together — only to run into Kylo Ren on the other side of the door.  
  
“Lord Ren.” Carson and Phaedra bowed, and then they scurried off. Hearing his name sent a jolt of adrenaline, and no small amount of fury, coursing through Rey’s veins. She hurriedly closed her robe and picked up her champagne flute, using it to studiously ignore the black behemoth now standing just inside her door. Angry as she was, gazing at her glass, she missed the flurry of emotions that crossed his face.  
  
“Are you well, Lady Rey?”  
  
She tried for an blank, bored expression. “Perfectly well, Lord Ren.”  
  
His head tilted as he studied her. “You’re angry.”  
  
“Is there a particular reason why you came? If not, I need to rest before the trip to Naboo.”  
  
A wave of intrigue rolled through Rey, tinged with amazement as much as amusement.  
  
“You hate me,” he mused, quietly, as if to himself.  
  
“Kylo Ren, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I truly do not care. You and your master have destroyed my life and offered me nothing I want or value in return. I am here until I discover how not to be here, so you needn’t worry about being _inconvenienced_ for one moment longer than absolutely necessary,” she spat. She really could throw herself on him and claw his eyes out, scratch until he was no longer handsome.  
  
_Until his outside reflects the ugliness and malice within,_ she thought bitterly. His already-pale face lost its color, and he reeled back as if slapped. He was not on the back foot for long, responding in a growl suffused with rage.  
  
“This is as unexpected and unpleasant for me as anyone, _Lady Rey._ Or do you think that I would willingly marry _you,_ a sand rat scavenger, even as a proxy?” His lip had curled into a sneer, his words dripping with disdain.  
  
Some women might collapse at such a provocation, or move to tears. Rey was not like most women; when injured, she returned the injury with interest.  
  
“‘Sand Rat’ I may be, but I was **free,** and I will be again. For all your titles and finery, _Lord Ren,_ **you** are a slave and a fool! What can a slave care whom his master orders him to marry?”  
  
Nausea and shame rolled through her, which was strange, because she was not and had never been ashamed of who she was, but she didn’t have time to dwell on the sensation. There was a change in the air that she could smell and feel, and she knew that his rage had become murderous. She smirked, because she knew she had the whip hand over him; he could not harm her for fear of his master.  
  
“You hate me,” she breathed, grinning like a cat, mocking him with his own words. “This bodes well for our married life.”  
  
He stormed away, and she settled back onto the sofa, well pleased with having chased the arrogant, awful man away. The longer she sat, though, a niggling thought became a nagging sensation: the nausea and shame she had experienced, she was certain, had not been her own. But whose could it have been? She had always been perceptive of the feelings of others, but she had never experienced them so vividly before.  
  
She took a deep, slow breath at the sickly fear that stole into her chest. The events of dinner replayed in her mind: Ren’s advice (which, she hated to admit to herself, had been decidedly helpful)… Snoke’s mental intrusions… watching Ren to observe how to eat — and then, she hit upon the first moment that, for all the unpleasantness that had come before, had struck her as truly odd: Ren’s reaction to her panic at dinner. He had physically blanched, and Snoke had noticed that something was amiss, but Ren had passed it off as a ‘disturbance in the Force’. He _must_ have known, though, because he planted images of what to do in her mind. Granted, she had told him that she was overwhelmed by the idea of formal dinner, but Ren could not have known that would extend to basic instructions on _how to eat._  
  
Her panic must have been the ‘disturbance’. Could he feel her emotions? Then, at the news that he would be a proxy at the marriage ceremony, she felt a barrage of emotions that she had understood, _in the moment,_ to be Kylo Ren’s.  
  
Why could they feel one another’s feelings? More importantly, how could she make it stop?


End file.
